


Confess Nothing

by sapphose



Category: Star Trek: Deep Space Nine
Genre: M/M, references to s02 e22 the wire
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2020-06-22
Updated: 2020-06-22
Packaged: 2021-03-03 20:47:48
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,885
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24851815
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/sapphose/pseuds/sapphose
Summary: Julian confronts Garak after realizing some things about how Cardassians flirt. Of course, getting a straight answer out of Garak is never easy.
Relationships: Julian Bashir/Elim Garak
Comments: 22
Kudos: 269





	Confess Nothing

“How long have you been flirting with me?”

It is a rare thing to surprise Garak, but Julian has certainly done so. Garak looks up from the bolt of fabric he has been cutting and plasters a pleasant smile on his face.

“It’s good to see you too, Doctor.”

“I’m serious.” Julian frowns and crosses his arms. He looks ridiculous, pouting in the middle of the tailor’s shop, but now doesn’t seem like the appropriate time to say so.

“You’ll have to forgive me, but I haven’t the faintest idea what you’re talking about.”

“How long have you been flirting with me?” Julian repeats slowly, as if explaining something to a very small child. His fingers drum impatiently against his arm.

Well. This is unfortunate, but not unexpected. Garak has always known the danger, and made his choice to play the game with full awareness that this day might come. An earth idiom Julian once taught him about _playing with matches_ comes to mind, and Garak brushes it away. With deliberate casualness, he places the shears on the table and straightens up.

“It seems something I’ve long been afraid of has come to pass. You’re so in love with yourself that you’re imagining everyone else is too.”

He means for the remark to sting. Usually, Julian retreats when hurt, and Garak’s first priority is to stop the conversation. Today, however, is different.

“True or false: Cardassians flirt by arguing,” Julian says stiffly.

Federation types and their over-simplifications. As if anything in life is so straightforward.

“Where did you hear that?” Garak runs the possibilities through his mind, but few seem likely.

“Well, Miles, originally, but-”

“And you trusted Chief O’Brien as an expert on Cardassian seduction techniques?”

“ _But_ he heard it from a reliable source and I’ve since corroborated it with others.”

Garak notes the vagueness. He wonders if _others_ means Cardassians or Bajorans or simply whatever can be found in the computer archives.

“Then why ask me about it, if you’ve heard from such a _reliable_ source?”

“You start a fight with me every time we have lunch.”

Garak presses a hand to his chest and widens his eyes, feigning innocence.

“It’s not my fault you hold so many erroneous opinions, Doctor.”

“Isn’t that flirting?” Julian demands.

Innocence isn’t working. A pointed insult didn’t work. Time for a new strategy. Garak opts to try polite incredulity. _Someone like me, flirting with a human like you?_

“The kind of argument that constitutes flirting between two Cardassians is elegant and subtle.” Garak lets his eyes flicker over the doctor as he speaks, hinting at a woeful lack of both qualities, masking how much he truly enjoys that view. “You’re over-estimating your own skills.”

Julian shifts uncomfortably, but stands his ground. His courage would be admirable, if it weren’t so damn inconvenient.

“It’s not just that.”

“Oh?” Garak puts as much doubt and disdain as he can into the one sound.

“Some of the things you say… And your _tone…_ Well, I always thought it was something lost in translation, but the other Cardassians on the station-”

The danger alarm sings out in Garak’s mind.

“ _What_ other Cardassians on the station?”

Julian bites his lip, and looks down. _Aha! He’s bluffing._ Garak allows himself to relax a little. Enemy operatives in disguise are not among the current threats.

“They do visit sometimes,” Julian says to the floor.

“The only visitor I can remember is the _illustrious_ Gul Dukat, and I hope you aren’t taking his word on the matter.”

“There have been others, Garak.” Garak opens his mouth to dispute this point, but Julian looks up and continues over him. “And they always look at us funny when we’re talking during lunch.”

Garak resists rolling his eyes at this naivete, but only just. When he imagined the dreadful confrontation, he had imagined the good doctor making points that were not so easily refuted.

“Has it occurred to you that may be because you choose to dine with an exile?”

“The Bajorans on the station think it’s odd too,” Julian replies defensively. “I thought they just didn’t trust you because, well, for obvious reasons, but then Major Kira said that she had always thought you were hitting on me.”

Garak makes a mental note to watch Kira more closely in the future. He never considered her to be particularly observant- evidently a grave error in judgment.

“I hardly think the Major is an unbiased source when it comes to Cardassian behavior.”

“It’s Nurse Jabara too. We’ve been treating Klingon-related sex injuries all week, and she was trying to be discreet but I’m pretty sure she implied that if I were suffering from any Cardassian-related sex injuries then I could rely on her to treat them quietly.”

 _If only_.

“Now you know who to turn to in such a circumstance,” Garak offers lightly.

An intense dislike towards Nurse Jabara is blooming in his chest, but he keeps his tone neutral. What else can he do? Admitting affection would be unthinkable.

Tain’s voice hisses in his ear. _Sentiment is a weakness, Elim_.

_You’ve always been weak._

Julian huffs and drops his arms to his sides. The sound and movement draw Garak’s attention back to the present moment.

“You aren’t answering my question,” Julian complains.

Garak blinks. Is he seriously expected to to?

“I wasn’t aware you had asked one,” he lies easily.

“Garak.” Julian’s gaze is piercing. He certainly is persistent, if nothing else. “Have you been coming on to me?”

Persistent, and loud. Garak’s eyes flicker past Julian, to the doorway and the pedestrian path beyond, where a pair of young ensigns are pointing and whispering to each other. If this scene continues, they will likely be joined by others.

_A good agent doesn’t draw attention to himself. Have you forgotten your training so quickly?_

“If I say yes, will you stop making a fool of yourself in the middle of the Promenade?”

“We’re not in the middle of the Promenade. We’re in your shop.”

“Which, I feel compelled to remind you, is in a very public location.”

Julian raises his eyebrows. “Am I embarrassing you?"

Garak is embarrassed, but not by the public display. It is more the shame of being caught in his pathetic little crush.

“You are embarrassing yourself,” he says severely, dropping the pretense of a smile. “You come in here, ranting and raving, hardly allowing me to get a word in edgewise, and demanding that I respond to your baseless accusations.”

 _“Elim_ -”

“How odd, Doctor.” Garak lets ice fill his voice, rearranges his mouth into a sneer. “I don’t recall giving you permission to call me that.”

How much lower could he be brought? Humans use given names so casually, so carelessly. Even the Bajorans better understand the power of a name to bring a person down.

“Garak.” Julian seems to realize that he had gone too far. He holds his hands out, palms up, tone apologetic. “Garak, I-”

“Now if you’ll excuse me, I have work to do. If you are going to insist on making a paranoid spectacle of yourself, I am going to have to call in security.”

Garak would rather a hundred ensigns than the sharp eye of Constable Odo, but he is much better at bluffing than Julian.

“You wouldn’t,” the human says, but he isn’t sure. When someone only ever lies, how can you tell when they’re telling the truth?

Garak takes advantage of his confusion.

“Good day, Doctor."

Garak doesn’t risk allowing himself a breath of relief when Julian leaves. He knows the respite will be temporary.

In the hours that follow, he tries to lose himself in a rhythm of productive destruction, cutting fabric and ripping seams and stabbing pins as if into enemy flesh. But his mind won’t be distracted, and the freezing station now feels too warm as his memory roams restlessly over Julian’s eyes, his lips, his hands.

 _Pathetic_. Tain’s voice worms into his ear, low and scornful. Garak’s heartbeat is too loud, and he wishes desperately for the wire, for kanar, for a hypospray, but pursuit of any of those options might end in Julian, and so he does not allow himself to leave the shop, and tries to ignore as _pathetic pathetic pathetic_ pulses through his veins.

******

When the door chime sounds, Garak knows immediately who it is. He doesn’t receive any visitors at his quarters, and only one person on the station seeks out his company. For a few moments he idly considers pretending not to be at home, but that will only delay, not prevent, the painful confrontation.

So Garak makes himself stand and answer the door with a thin smile like a knife’s edge. He could mask it with placid indifference, but he wants Julian uncomfortable. Anything to reclaim the advantage.

Garak nods to acknowledge his visitor, but uses his bulk to block the doorway. “Doctor. Have you come to continue your scene from earlier?”

“I want to talk, Garak.” Julian’s voice is calm, but his wringing hands betray his nervousness.

 _Good_.

“I’ll take that as a yes.” Garak tries out a yawn. “Unfortunately, I’m a little too tired to deal with dramatics.”

Julian’s jaw tenses.

“There are some things you and I need to discuss. We can have this conversation inside or in the hallway. It’s up to you.”

Garak feels irritation curl within him, annoyance at Julian for trying to force his hand. How dare he take away Garak’s control of the situation?

“And what if I asked our dear constable to come by and arrest you for disturbing the peace?” There is a risk in using the same lie twice, especially in one day, but it did work before.

“Then I’m sure a lot of people would be very curious to know why I was coming by your quarters so late in the day.”

Julian’s eyes are locked on Garak’s, and there is no lie to be found.

Garak’s bared teeth barely look like a smile anymore.

“Well, Doctor, it appears you’ve forced my hand. Won’t you come in?”

“Thank you.”

The door shuts behind them, but Garak makes no motion to move further into his quarters or take a seat. Instead he stands, soldier stiff, and waits for Julian to make the first move.

Julian’s long limbs are usually loose, but now he stands like a tightly coiled spring, clasping his hands together.

“May I call you Elim?” he asks.

He could not have chosen a more inauspicious beginning, and it brings a sour taste to Garak’s mouth.

“No, you may not.”

“Okay.” Julian swallows and nods, accepting the false start. “Can I ask why?”

Garak’s initial impulse is to repeat himself ( _no, you may not_ ), but the desire to be petty is tempered by the need to break this hold Julian has over him, this secret that hasn’t been shared.

“To begin with, I don’t think I ever told you that was my name.”

“You didn’t. During your…” Julian pauses, choosing his next words with care, but Garak can already tell from the silence what will come next. “When your implant was malfunctioning, you told me stories about someone named Elim. I asked Enabran Tain about it. He told me it was your name.”

Garak doesn’t want to think about the last time Julian was in this room, about his own disgusting desperation. Even less does he want to think about Tain, who surely told Julian as just another way to torture Garak.

“Did you ever consider he may have lied?”

“No.” Julian answers with immediate, foolish certainty. “Why would he?”

A sound that is somewhere between a chuckle and a hiss escapes Garak’s lips.

“Lying is like any other skill, Doctor. It must be practiced constantly.”

Julian tilts his head to the side, considering.

“So, it’s not your name?” he asks doubtfully.

Garak is losing patience with this human need for everything to be explicit. How has the species advanced so far without losing their childish need for certainty?

“Did I say that?”

“You’re doing it again.” Julian’s face is flushing with frustration. In another moment, Garak would have found it charming. “You’re deflecting instead of answering.”

“Deflecting _is_ an answer.”

“But it’s not an answer I understand! Earlier, in your shop, I thought maybe you were trying to, I don’t know, protect me from being hurt?” Julian rubs the back of his neck, inexplicably bashful. “But you certainly weren’t trying to spare my feelings in any other regard.”

Garak firmly suppresses the desire to give his own attention to Julian’s neck, to know the feeling of that smooth skin under his lips.

“You’re rambling, Doctor.”

Julian sighs and runs a hand through his hair. Garak feels a rebellious twitch in his own fingers and holds himself still with steely self-control. He mentally chides himself. _You can l_ _ook all you want,_ _but you’ll never get to touch_.

“Have you been flirting with me? It’s a simple yes or no, Garak.”

Is anything in life so simple? Maybe Garak believed so once, when he was very young. He doesn’t anymore.

Saying _yes_ is impossible. Even in exile, an agent of the Obsidian Order, the son of Enabran Tain, does not display sincere interest in a low-ranking Starfleet human.

Saying _no_ is a lie Garak can’t quite bring himself to tell. It means giving up on the fantasy he won’t admit he has.

To a Cardassian, the answer would already be obvious from what he has left unsaid.

“Which answer will result in you leaving this alone?”

Julian makes a low, rumbled noise of exasperation. “I don’t want you just to answer so I’ll leave! I want the truth.”

“You know my opinion on that subject. I don’t believe there is such a thing,” Garak says contemptuously. Truth, like anything else, lives in the eye of the beholder.

He’s shaken to see something on Julian’s face that looks like… disappointment?

“I suppose I should have known better than to try and get a straight answer from you.”

_Yes. You should have._

Garak should take a victory in that and use the opportunity to steer the doctor towards the door. Yet he doesn’t want to.

Does he want Julian to stay? Does he _want_ to be discovered?

“I think your logic has failed you in many regards. For example, if I were, as the Major so charmingly put it, _hitting on you_ , wouldn’t I do so in a human fashion so that you could understand?”

Julian’s brow furrows as he takes the bait.

“Unless you didn’t want me to realize what you were doing.”

“What could possibly be the point of that?” Garak masks the leading question with a dismissive tone.

“I can think of a few possible explanations. One.” Julian holds up a long, beautiful finger. “Fear of being rejected.”

 _True._ Garak knows that his appeal is his mystery. The side of Julian that likes to think of himself as important and dangerous is fascinated by Garak’s mystique. The xenophile in Julian is interested in the inherent strangeness of an alien species, probably even considers it exotic. But familiarity would easily dull the edge on that want, and Garak would be found boring and cast aside.

“Two.” Another finger in the air as Julian continues. “Fear of reprisal from someone else.”

 _True_. Garak had learned that he could keep no secrets from Tain, and any weaknesses would be exploited and used against him. If not Tain, one of his other enemies would find the connection and take advantage of it.

“Three.” Julian pauses and looks into Garak’s eyes, considering. “Maybe you were just entertained by my ignorance.”

 _Partly true, unfortunately_. There was a delicious, illicit thrill in expressing emotional attachment without anyone realizing. When Julian returned Garak’s attentions in kind without knowing what he was doing, it was a unique source of both pleasure and pain.

“Have we now discussed the matter to your satisfaction?” Garak asks quietly.

“No.” Julian’s eyes are merciless, and his three fingers point accusingly in the air between them. “Am I right? Which is it?”

Damn that persistence, that insistence on making the subtext into text, damn every trait that makes Julian as intoxicating as he is infuriating.

“Really, Doctor, this is intolerable. For all you know I have a wife on Cardassia Prime.”

Julian curls his fingers back towards his palm and pulls his arm in towards his chest.

“Do you?”

Garak resists another eye roll. _Obviously not. Use your vaunted intelligence, Doctor._

“What do you think?”

“I don’t want to talk about what I think. I want to know if we- if you- that is, if-”

“Now you’re babbling, Doctor.”

“Do you find me attractive?”

Garak is struck by multiple conflicting impulses. It would be easy to laugh and insult Julian’s ego, chasing him away with biting barbs. Or Garak could hem and haw, use the moment to launch into a lecture about the subjectivity of individual beauty and the enduring, objective beauty of a powerful state, as best exemplified by the works of Preloc.

Alternatively, he could answer by ripping off Julian’s clothes and moving the discussion beyond words, preferably someplace like the bedroom.

Even while he contemplates these options, Garak knows there is only one way to respond to an unwelcome line of questioning.

Deflect.

“A Cardassian would never ask such a vulgar question so directly,” he remarks, neglecting to mention that an observant Cardassian wouldn’t have to ask, so obvious is the answer.

“I’m not a Cardassian,” Julian says, voice tight.

“I’m well aware.”

“Are you going to answer?”

Garak feels something inside him break, and a rush of words floods out past the shattered internal dam. Without meaning to, without wanting to, he tells the truth.

“What would be the point? My dear doctor, I think even you don’t know what you really want. Suppose that I say no? Your fragile ego will be bruised. Oh, I imagine you’ll try to pretend that you don’t mind, but we both know that you so adore being admired, being wanted. You’ll start finding reasons to cancel our lunches, or become too busy to read the novels that I send you. On the other hand, if I were to say yes, what would be the outcome? You’ll be flattered, of course, perhaps even pity me for my hopeless but inevitable infatuation. You do know, my dear, how I feel about being pitied. There is an off chance that your academic curiosity would propel you to pursue something further, to find out what a naked Cardassian looks like. You might even attempt a date, and consider yourself very enlightened and tolerant for doing so. But we both know how your relationships ultimately end.”

His speech is followed by tense silence, as the two men maintain an eye contact neither of them wants and keep their breathing relentlessly even with practiced, artificial calm. Garak is repulsed by his own honesty, and finds protection only in the hope that Julian will be unable to recognize it as such, too distracted by every nerve Garak has hit about his inflated ego, misguided enthusiasm, and romantic failures.

“Let me see if I’ve got this correct.” Julian’s voice is low and tense. “You have been flirting with me, as long as you’ve known me, because you do, in fact, find me attractive. However, you never intended for me to find out, and now that I have you’re worried it will ruin our friendship, because you don’t think that I will reciprocate your feelings. Have I got it right?”

How mundane and maudlin it sounds, laid out in such unforgivably plain terms.

 _Pathetic_.

“Is that what I said?” Garak clings to the last threads of his dignity, his training to give away nothing. He has no one to blame but himself, for playing with fire and assuming he wouldn't get burned.

“Yes. I think so.”

Against all odds, Julian’s lips are curved upwards in a small smile. Garak hadn’t identified him as the type to revel in another’s humiliation, but perhaps everyone is, even under the most idealistic and sympathetic veneer.

“You seem quite sure of yourself.”

“I am.” Julian has the audacity to lean forward and smile more widely. “Because, for once, I know something you don’t.”

“And what is that?” Garak asks, despising the part of himself that is still hungry for Julian to come closer.

“I do find you attractive, Elim Garak. And I’m quite prepared to act on it.”

Garak’s immediate reaction is to consider a Universal Translator malfunction, alien influence, intoxication from a foreign substance, or any one of the infinite terrible things that happen on this godforsaken station.

His second thought is that Julian is simply lying. That would be quite uncharacteristic given their interactions thus far, but it’s easier to believe than the alternative.

Garak’s third thought is that he was right, and Julian’s xenophilia is overruling his better judgment.

“I did mention, Doctor, that you might be."

“No, you said I might have ‘academic curiosity.’” Julian places his hands on his hips, smirking. “I don’t think that remotely _begins_ to cover how I feel about you.”

It is a rare thing to surprise Garak. It is even rarer to surprise him multiple times in one day. He is not finding it an enjoyable experience.

“My other points still stand,” he says, struggling for control of the situation.

“You’re right. The relationships I’ve been in have all ended. I still _thoroughly_ enjoyed myself while I was in them.”

Julian has the nerve to lick his lips after that remark, and Garak swallows hard, finding that his mouth has suddenly gone dry.

“I’m glad for you.”

Julian steps forward. Garak can’t show vulnerability by moving backwards and ceding ground, so he simply stands, staring, as the space between them closes.

“And maybe it will change our friendship. But maybe it will be worth it.”

“An interesting hypothesis,” Garak says, and even to himself his voice sounds distant and far away.

Julian reaches out and begins to run his fingers down Garak’s left arm. Instinctively, Garak’s right hand shoots up and grasps Julian’s wrist.

Without meaning to, without wanting to, Garak calculates to how much pressure it would take to snap the bone.

“Give me a chance to prove that it could be worth it,” Julian murmurs breathlessly.

Garak can hear his own heartbeat again, too loud by far, his pulse roaring.

“Why, my dear doctor, I believe you’re flirting with me.” He is trying for their normal easy banter, but his voice is hoarse.

Julian laughs.

“I’m certainly trying to.”

Garak has been trained all his life to plan for every possible situation, to never be caught off-guard. But he isn’t prepared for this.

All he can think to do is watch as Julian lifts the forearm still trapped in the Cardassian’s grip, raises it to his lips, and slowly, deliberately kisses Garak’s knuckles.

Garak lets go of Julian’s wrist, but doesn’t move his own hand away, enjoying the burning that ignites everywhere those soft lips touch.

 _Pathetic_ _and weak_ , the ghost of Enabran Tain shouts in his mind.

 _Shut up_ , Garak thinks, and steps in for closer kind of kiss, to feel those lips against his own, and to let the fire consume him whole.

**Author's Note:**

> Thank you for reading! If I could write a good sex scene, this is where it would go. Anyone who has that ability is encouraged to continue this scene if you feel inspired to do so!


End file.
